


Deck the Halls

by lofikid



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon Universe, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Established Relationship, First Christmas, Fluff, Fluff without Plot, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-22
Updated: 2017-12-22
Packaged: 2019-02-18 11:27:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13099131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lofikid/pseuds/lofikid
Summary: Keith has never had a real Christmas, and for their first Christmas up in space, Lance is determined to change that.





	Deck the Halls

**Author's Note:**

> merry christmas! this took me a good week to write on and off and even if it's short, i hope you enjoy it and it gave you a little bit of festivity! :)

Slowly, after months of being in space causes for new routines. One of which being their shared breakfasts and intertwined midnight snacks which led to eventual midnight chatter. Another thing that they had not accounted for was the fact that for the Paladins of Voltron, the  _ defenders of the universe _ , they were given an awful lot of downtime. Maybe it was because Galra clocks were extensively longer than Earth clocks, or maybe it was because they had unnaturally long attention spans but either way, this led to extended periods of time sprawled out on couches wearing plush paladin pyjamas and berating stories which seemed like tall tales to the foreign Alteans. And the foreign Alteans, they berate stories that seem like tall tales to the Earth kids. And to the Alteans, they pretended to understand the concept of Christmas, but the closest thing they had to Christmas was a lopsided hunting festival where they eat deranged animal flesh. So, not entirely like the Paladins Christmas at all.

The conversation of the day, one of sleepy and lopsided blabber could be heard from just outside the paladins holding room. Lance smiles, and he crosses his arms. “What about you, Pidge? How did you celebrate Christmas at casa Holt?” He asks, full clad in lion slippers and the assortment. Lance had pestered Pidge and Hunk long enough for them to finally allow him to take a peek at their rough estimate of what day it was back on earth. When he saw that there was a little over a week until Lance’s favourite time of year; Christmas. 

Pidge smiles and she leans back in the plush couch. Matt is right beside her, and before Matt and Pidge, Lance would have never thought that two siblings could be so close. “Well, nothing much but we would make a bunch of food and give it out to the carollers.” She says, as Matt nods, backing up the affirmation. Pidge’s eyes glaze over wistfully, as she’s transported to simpler times of carolling and singing songs as she tries to stay awake for Santa. She’s reminded of hanging stockings and setting out milk and cookies. She’s reminded above all, of her father.

Lance looks to Hunk, raising an eyebrow. “Hunk?” He asks, as Hunk smiles. “I’d travel to New Jersey to meet with my relatives.” He says, looking warm from thoughts of the past. Hunk thinks of his past, quiet and full of memories. Cooking alongside his family members, preparing feasts so delectable only imaginable. “What about you Lance?” He quipped, staring at his friend. 

Lance smiles as if he was receiving the _Person of the year_ award, bright and shiny and full of soft edges. When any of the Paladins talked about their family, it was always a soft spot for them, a small wound picked clean to reveal the soft, pinkish flesh of the underbelly. “Me?” He asks, snickering to only himself. “Well, my _entire extended family_ would come over to my humble abode as my mom and my aunts prepare a feast.” He said, rubbing his belly in splendor. “My mom, she cooks a pig in a _caja china_ , and we play dominoes while the food gets cooked, in traditional Cuban fashion, of course.” His eyes glaze over in the same fashion that they always did when talking about home. It made everyone in the room ache for his sorrows as well.

They go around the circle, with Shiro telling of how he’ll visit his family in the north and of how they’ll all exchange an abundance of gifts. At that moment, Keith sleepily trudged down the stairs to see all paladins clad in their pyjamas and their fingers cupping something warm and sweet. He takes a seat next to Lance, almost instinctive, after all these months. Lance perks up at the sight of him, and wraps his arm around his neck. “What about you, mullet?” Lance asks playfully. Keith rolls his eyes, the old nickname harkening back to days of teasing now grown into something more. Days now grown into two kids realizing that maybe, just maybe, they still had a little love to give. Maybe begrudgingly teaming up with your worst enemy, maybe it made you a little crazy. (In a good way.)

“What about me, what?” Keith says, leaning into Lance’s embrace. A familiar smile creeps up on his face, something warm and languid.  After a few months of the routines and of the same habits, the other members of Team Voltron were used to the small displays of affection. Sure, in the beginning they believed it might be detrimental, but now it proved to be the total opposite. It had changed and flipped Keith’s mindset one hundred and eighty degrees. At the end of the day, it made him a better team player, it made him  a better person. The same could be said for Lance, the only distraction of their so-called rivalry had slowly faded, affronting his entire attention to the annihilation of the Galra empire.

“How did you celebrate Christmas?” Lance asks, and the question should make Keith feel all sorts of things, devise a good excuse or a better lie, but he looks around the room where he’s surprised to see people who maybe would still judge him, but would never attack him. A home. A chance. A chance to break free and find the home he never really had.

And so, Keith does something he rarely does when talking about his past. He tells the truth. “I dunno. Sometimes some sap would dress up in the musty Santa outfit, but for the most part foster homes didn’t really care about foster kids on holidays.” He says, shrugging. Keith should feel hurt, because he never did have that experience unlike everyone else. He should feel hurt, but he doesn’t. Keith internally mulls it over, a wound picked clean and maybe even healed. Scarred, but not an open bleeding gash. He isn’t hurt. There's nothing to be hurt  _ at _ . It doesn’t matter in the end, Keith still ended up in Lance’s arms and he wouldn’t have had it any other way. Sure, he burned bridges and hurt and killed and turned all the tables in his favor, but it’s the price he must pay for learning how to find his way.

Lance looks at Keith as if he had just seen a ghost, as Keith looks back just as puzzled. “What?” Keith asks, incredulous. He should be doubly shocked, maybe a little hurt at the instigation, but he isn’t. He couldn’t be hurt with Lance. Loving Lance was like waking up with the sun and learning how bright it was every single day as if for the first time.

Lance looks at him, dumbfounded. “You’re telling me that you’ve never had presents?” He replies, blinking rapidly and just a little too quick. Before Keith, he had never really been in love. He always saved those feelings for someone else. Before Keith, it was just Lance getting into stupid squabbles for barely Bonnie and Clyde relationships. Maybe they  _ were  _ Bonnie and Clyde. Would they kill for each other? Would they die for each other? They didn’t need to answer that — they already have ten times over. Nothing like taking a bullet to an open wound every day to remind you that you’re at a war you never even started.

Keith thinks it over, long and hard. He shakes his head. Sure, he’d have a few secret Santa gifts from school, and maybe water and a leg of chicken counted as a gift from his foster parents, but did it really? Lance’s brow furrows. Keith sometimes likes to joke with Lance that he’ll get a vicious wrinkle right where his two eyebrows meet and end, but he sees it now and frowns. “Gingerbread cookies? Christmas cards? Snowball fights?” Lance quips, looking at the etched in concentration Keith. 

 

He shakes his head again, firmer. “Doesn’t ring a bell.” Keith says, and Lance looks like he had just been stabbed. He looks afflicted, more for Keith than for himself. Keith looks around, because not once did Lance pity Keith as much as he did now.

Instead, Lance takes him by the shoulders and kisses the boy on his left cheek. The other members try to faux gag and crack jokes as they do when they bear witness to public displays of affection, but they can’t, maybe because they’re in shock just as Lance or because they think that in the warmth it may just be the slightest bit inappropriate.

Keith can hear the whispers of the beautiful boy as his breath hits his earlobe. “I’ll give you the best Christmas ever.” Lance says, and Keith chuckles despite himself. It’s not one of vigor and dry humor, but simply because when one was met with pleasantries, what else are you to do? Lance’s quip wasn’t mean or insinuating, it wasn’t mischievous or juvenile. It was an invitation, an invitation to pick up his sorrows and his worries and throw caution to the wind.

 

* * *

 

Two days later, the ship comes to a slow as Lance and Keith’s footsteps resonate through the hallways. “Please, please, please don’t open your eyes.” Lance says, laughing as he presses on Keith’s eyes. 

Keith laughs, as he feels a cold rush sweep him off his feet, barely. As Lance lifts his hands, Keith blinks wildly. “Lance, where the hell are we?” He says, as the ship comes to a slow descent. Lance’s gaze is soft and coaxing. 

He shrugs nonchalantly, as if stopping their carefully thought out course for Keith was no big deal. “Well, Allura said that it was virtually impossible to go back to earth right now, so I basically forced her to make a landing on this snowy star, even if it is a billion miles away from home.” 

Keith smiles and shakes his head. “Snowy star? Sounds oxymoronic.” He says, as he feels something cold and wet hit his face. Keith smiles, then, there, and now. He smiles and laughs because snowball fights seemed awful and boring, but nothing with Lance could be awful and boring. Everything with Lance was the complete opposite. Everything with Lance felt like carrying a supernova in your front pocket, in the best way possible.

Lance laughs, hurling another snowball on the corner of his shoulder. Keith rambunctiously picks up pace, and throttles a cold and damp snowball at full speed. And sure, the snow lands like lead and it smells like gasoline, and the snow is more off white grey than powdery white, but it’s the closest thing they had to something. It was the closest thing they had to anything. 

They go back and forth, alternating between tossing them at each other and hurling them at full speed.  Both boys were really good at throwing the snowballs, not so much at dodging them.

At the end of it, every crevice of Keith’s skin is tinged pink and there’s snow sticking out crisply out of Lance’s hair brightly in contrast to his skin the color of earth. Keith has tiny snowflakes on his eyelashes and as they blink against his face, he’s grinning so bright and wide. Lance just can’t help but kiss Keith, because what more could he do?

Eventually both boys are tired and winded, and have flopped down unceremoniously on a soft almost snowy pile. They make snow angels, as Lance softly guides Keith on moving his limbs in time so that it could make a proper snow angel. After standing up and admiring their handiwork, Lance kneels down and with a cold finger draws a heart right in between the two of their snow angels. Keith shakes his head softly, kind of in shock of how he could have been so lucky to be in love with such a boy.

Later, when they put the final touches on the rudimentary snowman, Lance smiles. “It snowed only rarely in Cuba.” He said, the same sadness when talking of home.

Keith glanced pointedly at Lance. “I bet you’ll find a way to bring them snow for the holidays.”

Lance grins widely. “Yeah, I will.” He stares at Keith and smiles. “ _ We _ will.”

What they didn’t account for, however, was that their Paladin armor was far from cold resistant. (Pidge swears that she’s working on it, some thermodynamic physics and everything else related.) As Lance wrings out his hands, Keith’s laughter rings out throughout the small star.

“I’m so cold.” Lance says, teeth chattering and shivering all over. He says squeezing his hands tightly.

Keith shakes his head and grabs Lance’s hands. After a second, Lance pipes up. “You know, I think my lips are cold, too.”

He sighs and plants a kiss on Lance’s lips, because no matter how much Keith rolls his eyes or sighs at Lance, he knows that in the end Lance will have always gotten the best of him.

“Come on, I have another surprise to show you!” Lance says, after a heartbeat of longing and quiet contemplation. He grabs Keith by the wrist and runs a few meters to show Keith a vast snowy lake, cold to the touch and just a little icy.

“Ice?”  Keith asks, raising his eyebrow.

“Ice skating!” Lance exclaims, throwing his hands up in the air. He shows Keith what to do next, to change the settings on their armor and on the heels of their shoes, applying traction used for tactical stakeouts, and now for ice skating a million miles away from everything they have ever known and ever loved.

Lance pulls Keith onto the ice, saying a quick prayer that the ice in fact holds. They spin for a while, quiet and circling each other. Their gaze is a wary one, staring in a way that was once an invitation to fight, to size each other up, now such a gaze means differently. The gaze, it’s one of longing and emotions, of months of hand holding and thousand yard stares. It’s everything and nothing and life and death itself. It’s the gaze of two people in love. They’re in love. They stay silent, the sound of their makeshift skates grating along the ice enough to fill their almost winter wonderland.

Later when they thaw, Lance lends Keith his jacket as they sit by the artificial fireplace holding something Hunk swears is a cup of hot chocolate. “Nothing like this?” Lance asks, once on board the artificially warm ship. One thing winter did bring about was definitely an excuse to wear layer upon layer of beanies and woolen sweaters. (And of course, cuddling up to Keith.)

He shakes his head. “Snow was a minor nuisance in the anthology of my miseries.” Keith said, and Lance was as always impressed by his eloquence as ever. Where Lance stumbled and tripped over his words that endlessly poured out of him, Keith was like a tap, flowing with words that Lance hadn’t even dreamt of. It was just another reason to love Keith. A reason of many, multiple and never waning.

Lance leans back now, just a little bit further. It was warm and quiet, and Keith could feel — literally feel — his walls thawing. He could feel his small heart grow just a little bit more. He feels his heart and he feels every swell and deft heartbeat pluck at his heartstrings like an angel strumming at a harp. Keith is sitting a little straighter now, and runs his hands with dexterity through Lance’s hair. He thinks of this and he thinks of everything that they have done just to get to now. Slow dancing at diplomatic balls, Keith lightly kissing every freckle on Lance’s face, finding each other after stressful missions. The latter was definitely the best part. That was always the best, picking each other up and spinning the other in their arms, running towards each other after a particularly tough mission, crashing into each other with desperate kisses after one too many close calls. Nothing could beat that nothing… until this. Because sometimes, sometimes desperation and the heat of battle was good. But sometimes, Lance just needed the silence. The silence and the presence and sitting silently with a million things to say but no way to say it. And Keith, Keith doesn’t mind it either.

Keith smiles now, because Lance’s face is obscured from his vision and he smiles because he could get used to this. “So.” Keith begins. “Is this it on Lance McClain’s Christmas Agenda?” He asks, with a lilt in his voice.

Lance smirks. “Hardly.”

 

* * *

 

When they wake, something sweet smelling and twinkly clouds their vision. Still clad in what appears to be a mismatch of either Keith or Lance’s apparel on the other, the two of them walk downstairs. Almost as soon as they enter the kitchen, a sparkly eyed Allura greeted them, with fairy lights in one hand and garland in another. “Shiro told me all about Christmas! The traditions and…” She glances at Hunk in the other room. “The mistletoe!” She says, smiling brightly.

Lance chuckles as Keith glances at the ceiling. Lo and behold, a leaf of mistletoe is planted right above their heads. Lance motions to kiss Keith first, but Keith gets to him before he can and kisses him long, light, and full of energy packed emotions that every kiss contained. Allura to say the least was surprised, but it did give her a cheeky idea. Keith and Lance end up kissing in almost every room under almost everyone’s gaze as Allura keeps planting mistletoe in every single crevice possible. As they wander back into the kitchen, they find a gingerbread house just begging to be made.

After some mild persuasion with Hunk, the now both giddy and excited boys bound through the halls with tubes of royal icing and gumdrops in their possession. Frosting and candies get everywhere, but the kisses just couldn’t be sweeter. Lance smiles and shakes his head, holding up his phone. “For documentation.” Lance reasons, a lovestruck smile plastered on his face.

Both boys covered in sugar and icing, they smile for the camera. And at the very last second, Lance leans in and kisses Keith just as the camera shutter clicks.

Keith makes a fake-disgusted face at Lance’s sappiness and sticks his tongue out. But no matter how much he sticks his tongue out and rolls his eyes, he knows that at the end of the day there really was no place that he would rather be. 

After snapping the photo candidly, Lance holds up a gingerbread cookie with the top half caked in icing. “It’s you!” He exclaims, pointing at the cookie.

 

“And that,” he says, pointing to the area of white at the top of the cookie, “Is your stupid mullet.” Lance says, and no matter how much Keith will protest that  _ it’s not a mullet,  _ Lance’s term of endearment was without a doubt  _ mullet  _ for Keith. And in some ways, that was better than  _ my love  _ or  _ sweetheart.  _ An inside joke inside an inside joke. It made Keith feel warm and just a little bit at ease.

Keith doesn’t know what will happen after. After, all of this. After they take down the Galra or die fighting… it’s interesting to think so far in the future that he’ll even get the chance to think about life after Voltron.

He blinks, trying to bring himself out of his own mind. Right now, he had more pressing things to deal with. Like, a ridiculously silly boy who Keith was glad to call his own. His love.

 

* * *

 

 

“So like, what do you guys usually do for Christmas?” Keith said, crossing his legs as Hunk stared at him adamantly.

“You guys?” Hunk asked, and Keith nods.

“Yeah. Like… normal people? People without dysfunctional home lives?” He says, and it comes out cagier than expected.

“Oh,” Hunk says, stumbling over his words. “Well, usually what the collective we would do is uh,” He said, trying to think of the best way to illustrate Christmas to somebody in the dark about it. Somebody who knew the very obvious gist of Christmas, but was never given the privilege of experiencing it for himself. 

He smiles. “It’s knitting ugly Christmas sweaters and sticking mistletoe everywhere.” Keith smiles fondly, thinking of how the latter was definitely achieved. “It’s sitting by the fireplace and drinking hot cocoa.”

Keith’s eyes glaze over. “It’s spending time with your loved ones.” He blurts out, and he couldn’t be more right. He thinks of Christmas, and he thinks of Lance and Pidge and Hunk and everyone in the Castle of Lions.

Hunk smiles. “Definitely.”

The next morning, Keith can hear Lance’s rambunctious footsteps before he can see him. He hears the whoosh of the door and Keith can’t help but contain his smile. “Keith, wake up. It’s Christmas!” Lance exclaims, and Keith couldn’t be happier, but decides to faux sleep for just a little bit more.

“Keith!” Lance says, basically dragging him out of bed.

Keith sits up and rubs at his eyes groggily. “I’m awake, I’m awake.” He says, chuckling lightly.

Lance grins from ear to ear. “Merry Christmas, Keith.” He says, planting a small kiss on his cheekbone.

Keith smiles, because it may be his first real Christmas in eighteen years, which probably isn’t how the vast majority are spending their Christmases this year, but to Keith, all of it felt just right. The perfect amount of elation and serendipity. “Merry Christmas, Lance.” 

He falls in step with Keith and walks over to their living room, and the hasty makeshift decorations. Lance laces his hand in Keith’s and he can just see a whisper of a blush bloom on Keith’s cheeks. The touch was so simple and comforting, and at the same time completely unfamiliar. Each moment with Lance was a step into the new and unfamiliar. They move to the downstairs couch and their bodies are curled unto each other, Lance’s lanky legs thrown over Keith’s lap, neck curled into the crook of the other boy’s neck. Here and now, where Hunk and Pidge were plotting dastardly to plant another sprig of mistletoe on them, here and now they were safe and warm. They’ve kissed under it multiple times, so they let Pidge and Hunk attend to their fun. Keith plants another kiss on Lance’s cheek, and in that moment, in the still-clad pyjama paladins, everything felt right. For the first time in a long time, the castle felt like home. 

Suddenly, the warmth and the tide washes out and Lance can distinctly hear three voices talking from behind them. 

“It’s just a leaf.” He hears Coran say. Whereas Allura may have picked up on the meanings of mistletoe, Coran was still left in the dark.

“Yes, but it’s Christmas tradition.” Pidge quips, and Lance can just imagine Hunk nudging her.

Coran’s eyebrows perk and his eyes light up. “Oh! Is that why Keith and Lance are kissing?” He asks, eyes craning to see the few strung up leaves in the lowly lit room.

Pidge laughs, loud and rambunctiously. Lance knows that she’s just doing that to draw attention to herself. Keith pulls away and chuckles. “No Coran, I think they just like kissing.” She says, and Lance laughs as well. 

Lance smiles at Keith and hands him a gift, wrapped in bright red wrapping paper. Two sweaters, identical in every way, other than the colors. The accents red and green and blue and green. Christmas sweaters made for a pair.

“A Christmas sweater?” Keith asks, pulling the woolen material up over his head. “I dunno, it’s kind of itchy and constricting.” He says, trying to stretch his arms. “I don’t think I can fight well in this.”

Lance smiles sadly. “Oh, okay. I mean of course.” He says, and Keith’s eyes widen.

“No, no! I don’t mean it like that! You worked hard on it and of course I want to wear it!” Keith says, shoving the matching one in Lance’s arms.

That day, as the rest of the paladins walk down slowly and sleepily, they drink hot chocolate and exchange gifts, eating food and telling stories to each other. The day was going splendidly, no incoming threats and all of their operations were going smoothly.

That night as Keith settles in with Lance, he looks at Lance and smiles. “Thanks.” He says, and it’s a single word, but it means the world and back to Lance.

“Anytime.” Lance looks at Keith and realizes that while maybe he found home in the castle, he found a home in Keith, too.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading and merry christmas! you can follow me on tumblr at @selinaphile or @pacificpaladin if you want :)


End file.
